


Hold On

by Jld71, ShadyB



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 09:32:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14871227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jld71/pseuds/Jld71, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadyB/pseuds/ShadyB
Summary: Set at the end of Captain America: Civil War.  Before the Winter Soldier goes back on ice, he and Steve Rogers come to terms with their past, present and future.





	Hold On

**Hold On**

                Barely conscious, the Winter Soldier had the vaguest memories of Steve picking him up off the ground and carrying him away from the battlefield.  He assumed they’d won, if only because he was still alive.  Looking back, he saw that Stark was on the ground beside Steve’s shield. 

                After that everything went black. 

                When he opened his eyes again, Steve was there next to him, unmasked and wearing a plain white t-shirt.  He reached out to Steve but he couldn’t touch, couldn’t make contact.  Something was missing.  Something wasn’t there. 

                He looked down and saw that his arm was gone. 

                Again.

                In that moment of recognition, it was as though he went back in time.  In his mind it was 1945 again.  The last thing he remembered was falling from a train, a sickening impact, and an all-consuming pain.  Now he was waking up in a subterranean Hydra base, strapped down, forced to listen as a scientist with a Russian accent explained how their soldiers had found him unconscious and broken in the Danube River.  He’d been lying in the freezing water for hours, nearly every bone in his body broken, his left arm had been torn off, and his heart only just beating.  They’d kept him in a medically induced coma for nearly six months, allowing him to heal.  Only his arm had been beyond repair. 

“By all rights, you should have died on impact,” the scientist told him. “However it appears that you were given a variant form of the Super Soldier Serum.  You present us with a unique opportunity.  To the rest of the world you are dead, but we have great plans for you, Sergeant Barnes.”

What followed was the systematic tearing out of his soul.

Remembering it, thinking he was back there, filled him with blind panic, every fight or flight instinct he had igniting. He flung himself away from his ghosts, far as he could until he crashed into the wall, sprawled on the floor teeth bared, eyes rolling, not seeing.  His heart was pounding like it was going to burst and he couldn’t breathe.  His single hand clawed at his chest, his whole body was shaking so hard it was nearly seizing. 

He became aware of Steve’s hands on his shoulders long before he could understand what Steve was saying to him. Somehow the strength of those hands, the steadiness of them seemed to calm him, anchor him to reality.

“Bucky, are you there? Are you with me, soldier?”  Steve was asking him. 

“Hold me down,” he managed to gasp. Steve straddled him, entwining his fingers with Bucky’s forcing his arm to his chest.  “Harder… as hard as you can…” 

Steve’s full weight came down on him, constricting him. It helped.  Pinned under Steve’s body, Bucky Barnes or the Winter Soldier or whoever he was could actually feel, maybe for the first time in years, safe.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked after they lay there in silence for a few minutes.

“No. Don’t let me go.”

“Most of my life’s gone away; you’re the only thing left. I’ll never let you go.” 

Gradually Bucky’s heart slowed, his body stilled, his panic ebbed.  

“Where are we?” Bucky asked.

“We’re in the Royal Place of Wakanda, in the infirmary. T'Challa’s given us sanctuary.”

“T'Challa?” Again, panic mounted in Bucky’s voice. “The Panther?  He was fighting with Stark.  He thinks I killed his father…”

“He knows you didn’t. We’re safe here.  You’re safe.  They have amazing technology; they’re going to help you.”

His mind blazed and spun like a jigsaw blade. Things fell into place.  He knew exactly what he had to do. 

“Can they put me down? Can they put me back into cryostasis sleep?”

“They can make you better, make you whole again.”

“Until they do, I need to be out of commission. I’m too dangerous.  They made me into a weapon.  I could go off at any minute.  I won’t be what they made me.  I won’t hurt you anymore and I won’t lose myself again.  I’m going back under for as long as it takes.”

Steve nodded. Of course he did.  He of all people knew when sacrifice was necessary.

“I’ll be there when you come back,” Steve promised. “Even if it takes another seventy years, I’ll be there.”

“I know you will.” Bucky whispered to Steve.

In answer to Bucky’s words, Steve shyly brushed his cheek with a kiss. Chaste.  Brotherly.  Not enough.  Not nearly enough.  

He needed Steve, so much. Steve was the only thing he could still believe in.  He didn’t have any of the other things that people relied on to give them purpose, keep them sane.  His family had been taken from him a long time ago.  Hydra had made it very clear to him, not only that there was no God but that loyalty to country, personal liberty and self-actualization could be tortured and beaten and raped and drugged out of a man.  It would have been justice for Tony Stark to kill him, after all he’d murdered the man’s parents in cold blood, yet he’d fought for his life with animal ferocity.  Steve was all he had to hold onto. 

The thing was, Steve believed in all the things Bucky didn’t. He’d created a family in the Avengers, given his life to his country, to upholding the principles of liberty and justice.  He believed in these things and he’d given them up, along with his shield for Bucky, for the killer who used to be his friend.  The only thing he had left was faith in a God of forgiveness and redemption. 

Yet even after he’d given up so much, lying underneath him, Bucky found he wanted much more from Steve. 

Deep down, Bucky was a street kid from Brooklyn who’d come of age during the hardships of the Great Depression, when taking what you needed to survive usually meant someone else wouldn’t have what they needed. Steal an apple and the next day the grocer would be in the soup line, but you steal it anyways because you’re starving today.  There was never enough to go around, never enough to be secure, never enough to be satiated.  He wanted more.  He wanted to be closer.  He wanted consummation. 

He pressed his face against Steve’s neck, nuzzling him. Steve rolled over so they were side by side on the floor, and threw a leg over Bucky’s.  Bucky cradled the back of Steve’s head; finger’s buried in his hair, tilted it upward so they were eye to eye, pressed close so they were forehead to forehead.

“Kiss me again,” he ordered. “For real this time.” 

Steve seemed on the verge of pulling away, but then he leaned in and brought his lips to Bucky’s, his tongue sliding over and then between them in a kiss that was neither chaste nor brotherly and became less and less so as it continued on and on. If Bucky didn’t know better, he would almost have thought that Steve was hungry for him. 

“Have we done this before?” Bucky asked when he came up for breath. 

“A couple of times…”

“I remember my hands on you, when I had hands plural. I remember how you taste.  I remember this…” he rubbed his thigh against the bulge between Steve’s legs.  “Did we ever fuck?”

“Please don’t use that word, please. It makes it seem so ugly.” 

“Sorry. How far did we go?”

“We went pretty far, but never all the way.”

“You turned me down, didn’t you? I think I remember you turning me down.”

“I asked you to stop. I couldn’t go through with it, I wasn’t ready.  It was a different time.  I didn’t understand the way you made me feel.”    

“Yeah, you confused the hell out of me. You were always special to me, right from the start.  You were so fragile, I wanted to protect you but it wasn’t as noble as it sounds.  I wanted you to be mine.  Then you turned into this superhero and I had to share you with the whole world.  I kind of resented that.”

“You were pretty surly for a while there.”

“I thought I hide it.”

“You’re not that good of an actor.”

“I remember on the train, right before I fell, thinking how great it was that it was just you and me, fighting together, sharing the shield, that things were exactly the way they should be. Then it was all over.”  A wave of sadness gripped him; Steve must have felt it too.  He smoothed back Bucky’s hair, kissed him carefully.

“Nothing’s over,” Steve whispered. “I’m yours now.”   

“Yeah, you are.” Bucky started pulling at Steve’s shirt, yanking it up to bare his skin as best he could with just one hand.  “Take your clothes off, I want to feel you.”

 “Are you sure you want to do this now?” Steve cautioned.  “You’re pretty bashed up,”

“Now is all we have.”

Steve stripped off his clothes then helped Bucky undress. He couldn’t manage it by himself, not with having one arm torn off.  Having a single hand came with severe limitations and it didn’t help that he could still sense his missing arm, that it seemed to be there, but when he tried to use it nothing happened.  He found himself growing frustrated at being so helpless, so damaged. 

Seeing Steve naked, the sculpted flesh of his gorgeous body had him feeling overwhelming desire, but also stirrings of anger.  Or maybe they came together, woven into each other, years of love and resentment, unasked and unanswered questions—Why do you get to be the hero and me the sidekick when it was always the other way around?  Why do you get to be whole in body and mind when I’m mutilated?  Why did you leave me with Hydra?  Why didn’t you save me all those years ago? 

They knelt facing each other; Steve’s hands ran over Bucky’s back, cradling his buttocks, pulling him close so they were fused at chest and pelvis, groins tight to each other, hot and pulsing. Bucky closed his eyes, letting the heat build between them, then fell onto Steve.

Bucky was shocked by his own roughness.

In the times he’d had sex since escaping Hydra’s control, he’d never been gentle, but it was one thing to have hard, wild sex with strangers, another to try it with Steve.  He hadn’t realized how far he’d come from the boy who held his best friend so carefully.  The Winter Soldier was a creature of violence, even in the act of love.  He wanted to mark, to bruise, to break, to subdue; he sunk his fingers into Steve’s muscles, his teeth into Steve’s neck.  The two of them rolled on the floor, slamming into walls, bodies colliding. 

It hurt. Steve was right; Bucky was pretty bashed up from the fight with Stark and his team and every impact was a sharp, breathless pain.  He could feel it in his bones.  Steve probably could too, but he took it, absorbed all the aggression his friend was throwing at him.  Steve wasn’t delicate anymore, he wasn’t breakable.  Bucky pounded at him for a long time before he finally exhausted himself and the two of them lay still, tangled together panting. 

“Let’s not do it like this,” Steve gasped. “It feels like we’re still fighting.  You do know I’m not the enemy anymore.  I’m your friend.  I’m someone who loves you.”

“I don’t think I can tell the difference anymore,” Bucky admitted.

“Let me show you,” Steve said. He gathered Bucky up in his arms, holding him against his chest.  “When I was fifteen I told Roger Galveston to stop picking on the little Kovacs girl with the leg brace.  He threw me off a subway platform onto the tracks.”

“I remember that, you broke your leg. You were stuck down there.”

“You climbed down and you picked me up, you held me like this. When I asked you how we were going to get back up onto the platform and you said you didn’t know, but you’d stay with me no matter what happened.  Eventually the station attendant got a ladder, got us out of there, but you would have stayed even if the train had come.  That was when I knew I loved you and that you loved me.  Nothing’s changed since then Bucky.”

“Everything’s changed.”

Steve kissed him, gently but deeply caressing his lank, dirty hair and unshaved face like they were the most precious things in the world.

“Nothing,” he said firmly, “has changed.”

It went differently this time, Bucky surrendered, let himself be carried away from that core of violence that gnawed inside him, let their bodies melt together, let Steve’s tenderness engulf him. Their bodies fell into the same sort of intuitive teamwork they’d used fighting Stark, passing the shield hand to hand.  They moved together finding the ways to give each other the most pleasure. 

“Would you, would you be inside me?” Steve asked tentatively.  He was lying on his back and he wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist, opening himself.

“Are you sure?”  

“Absolutely sure.”

 “I can’t just do it; we need to use some kind of protection.  Do you have a rubber?  Do they still call them rubbers?”

Steve’s eyes opened especially wide.

“Do you think Hydra infected you with something…” he asked. Bucky nodded gravely. 

“Incurable super venereal disease,” he deadpanned. “And I have poison semen.”  Steve looked deeply concerned.  “It’s okay, I’m joking, but seriously, we have to use something.  I haven’t exactly been celibate since I came out of cryostasis sleep and I haven’t always been careful.”

“Who did you… Did you meet someone, when you were in hiding?”

“I meant a lot of people, Steve. For a while I was meeting someone almost every night.  There are a lot of lonely people out there.  If you show them a little interest and affection, they’ll buy any story and they’ll give you whatever they can; a meal, money, weapons, a safe place to stay.  When you’re on the run like I was, when you have nothing and no one, it’s hard not to take advantage of that.”

“Where they women or… no, I don’t think I want to hear about this.”

“I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of Steve, you know that.”

“I do. I… I do have protection,” he got up, started rifling through his pack.  “Natasha gave me them to me last Christmas.  Hilarity ensued.”

“I don’t get it, why’s that funny?”

“Because she knows I don’t… that I haven’t…”

“You haven’t had sex? Do you mean since you came out of the ice or do you mean you haven’t ever?”

“The second one,” Steve muttered, finally pulling a strip of condoms from his pack. He was very flushed.

“You and Agent Carter never…”

“I waited too long, it was too late.”

“She cared about you a lot.”

“It was mutual.”

“You’re still a virgin.” It was a statement, not a question.

“It’s actually come back into fashion…”

“How is it possible that you’re still a virgin?”

“I’ve had a pretty busy schedule,” Steve protested. “I’ve had to learn a lot of new things; all these different fighting techniques, some of them I can’t even pronounce, and texting, and how to use a touch screen and all the countries have different names now.  And I work out a lot and there were missions, S.H.I.E.L.D and the Avengers, saving the world- that takes priority over dating- and fighting you…”

He was getting very flustered. Bucky knew he’d pushed it a little too far.  As long as he’d known him, Steve had been skittish and uncomfortable on the subject of sex.  Bucky had always thought it might have to do with things that had happened to him growing up.  He suspected, though he didn’t know for sure, that Steven had been repeatedly sexually abused by other boys during his childhood and adolescence.  He understood the impact that could have.  Hydra had used every tool at their disposal to break him so he knew from first-hand experience the anger and shame that could come from being hurt that way.  Maybe it was why he had such a hard time separating sex from violence, from using.  Steve on the other hand seemed to have managed to separate himself entirely from sex. 

Bucky rested his hand on Steve’s chest.

“Calm down, buddy,” he said. “Breathe.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he leaned forward, kissing Steve on the forehead, the cheek, and finally the lips. “It’s really an honor, I’m honored, that after everything it’s me you want to be with me.”  He took Steve’s hand, the one with the condoms in it.  “You’re going to have to help me with this; I’ll show you what to do.”

“Okay.”

Steve did as he said, opening the condom, pinching off the end, holding it in place as Bucky unrolled it over his hard-on.

“Okay, lie back,” Bucky instructed running his hand down Steve’s body. “God you’re beautiful.  You’ve always been beautiful and you’ve never known it.”  One by one he lifted Steve’s legs, and draped them over his shoulders.  One shoulder still bore the metallic plating from his robotic arm.  He could feel the pressure of Steve’s knee against it but not the heat, not the softness and the firm muscle.  It left him feeling strange, lopsided but it didn’t matter.  They were both lopsided; a virgin and killing machine, young men in their nineties.  They could only belong to each other.

He went slowly; making sure Steve was ready, using his fingers to ease him into it. The condom was lubricated so he moved the head of his penis against Steve’s opening in small circle, pressing just a little harder each time.  He stopped each time Steve tensed (and Steve tensed often).

“Tell me if I’m hurting you, okay?” Bucky said.  “You have to stop letting me hurt you.  I’ve done it too much already.”

“No, it’s not that it hurts, it’s just… I don’t know if I can do this.  I don’t know if I can be this close to someone… I don’t think I can stand it.” 

Steve would never admit it, but Bucky realized he was afraid. Steve had always been all about the shield, always keeping something between himself and others, keeping everyone at arm’s length.  Intimacy scared the hell out of him. 

“Hold on, Steve,” Bucky told him. “I promise to be careful.  If you can just trust me, I will be so careful with you.”

He waited then moved in a little further until he was fully inside. Steve whimpered like the boy he’d been years ago, and clung to him.  For a long moment he remained still, just being inside Steve, anchored by him, surrounded by him.  Things were exactly the way they should be. 

When he started moving, started thrusting, he went slowly, nuzzling Steve, kissing him steadily, keeping him connected. Again they found their rhythm, their point of synchronization where they moved as one.  Only then did Bucky let the intensity rise, growing higher and higher until Steve was thrashing beneath him, veins standing out, pushing up against him with all his strength.  Finally, Steve gasped wordlessly, his body jerking against Bucky’s as he came. 

Bucky pulled out of him, still hard, wrapped his arm around Steve’s neck, burying his face against his chest.  Steve lay there panting for a few moments, then his hands were on Bucky’s back, holding onto him.

“Hey, you okay, Rogers?” Bucky asked looking up into his eyes. 

“Uh huh.”

“So that was sex. Did you like it?”

“It was... Wow.  Just wow.  It feels like I had the tar beat out of me.  But in good way.”

“Never stop being who you are, Steve.”

“What about you?   You’re still…” his fingers brushed Bucky’s erection.  “You know.  Hard.  Can I… take care of it?”

“Yeah.”

Steve moved so he was behind him, on his knees, running his hands over Bucky’s chest, his stomach, finally taking his erection in both hands. He peeled the condom off and started stroking him, lightly at first, then harder, faster.  Bucky gasped and threw his arm back, looping it around Steve’s neck he held on until it was his turn to buck and writhe and finally spill into Steve’s hands. 

They lay still, entwined together for a long time before they finally picked themselves up off the royal infirmary floor, collapsing, crowded together on the cot where Bucky was supposed to have spent the night quietly recovering.  Completely spent they slept a few hours until the sky faded from black to the lavender gray of dawn.   

“The sun’s coming up,” Steve observed. “They’ll be here soon, the doctors and scientists.  They’ll want to see you.  We’d better get dressed.” 

“You’d better kiss me goodbye.”

“Just for now; I promise you, we’ll see each other again. We’ll be together again.”

“I believe you.”


End file.
